Crash
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!”
The rebellious lyrics are screamed from my throat as the alien king I have tried to resist plunges inside me. I want him. I want him and yet every time he claims me, I feel a little of my old self fading away, obliterated in the intense energy of our coupling. I thought I knew what sex was, but I never knew what being truly taken was until I felt my human flesh put to alien use.
“You’ll do what I tell you, Ariel. You’ll obey me, little human, or you will pay the price.”
How many times have we entered into one of these battles of wills? How many times will we do this? I do not know. I do know that I lose every time, that I end up wet and wanting him, giving myself to him even though I really want to cling to my old way of being.
He has me pinned down, though there is little resistance in my body. I want him. I have wanted him throughout the entirety of the circular duration of time. In the beginning, and at the end, I am locked in desire for this alien who does not understand or respect the customs of my world, or the values of my species.
He takes me. Roughly, and completely. He turns any reluctance I might have felt into the most burning biological desire. I am addicted to him. I am enslaved in some primal, chemical, biological way to this beast.
Who would have thought that my undoing would come this way? I used to be a respectable woman. I used to have authority, and a uniform. Now I have little more than the functions of my body, and a kind of desire which floods me from head to toe, consuming and corrupting all the thoughts that might once have led me away from this beast’s bed.
It was chance. An accident. An act of cosmic fate, and I was undone before I understood what was happening. I was so arrogant back then. Miserable, but in control, or so I thought. As the beast surges inside me, making my innermost parts spread for him, I have to admit that control has always been an illusion. I have chosen nothing in my life, least of all the events which led to meeting him…
Months earlier…
“What’s that?”
My partner Jerry is pointing at a bright light flashing toward the end of the Santa Monica Pier. It’s 5:30 in the morning and the sun has just started to rise, casting a golden glow over the ocean. We’ve parked our squad car up to wait out the rest of the shift. Thirty minutes.
Our shift ends in thirty minutes, then we’ve both got three days off. Well, I do. Jerry will start his shift as a security guard at the mall later on today.
“Don’t know,” I say, sipping my black coffee.
We watch with the casual interest of people who don’t really understand the gravity of what they're observing as the light gets bigger, and brighter, and…
KABOOM!
The ferris wheel explodes in a flash of retina destroying light. I am left with a blaze of white across my vision marked with the spiderwebbing of the wheel being obliterated like a daisy puff ball being blown away with a gust of breath.
Darkness is sucked back in seconds later and everything appears pitch black for terrifying moments before my eyes adjust again to the chaos which was just inflicted.
I turn my head and stare at my partner, who is staring dead ahead, his donut still stuck half out of his mouth.
“Was that a fucking missile?”
“I have no fucking clue,” Jerry replies.
“It looked like a fucking missile.”
The smoke clears and we both realize that it wasn’t a fucking missile. It was… something else.
“Looks like a flying spaceship,” Jerry says.
It does look like a flying spaceship. Or at least, part of it does. Most of it is shattered into bazillions of pieces, but one piece of the fuselage has somehow remained intact against all odds.
“We should radio this in,” Jerry says.
He’s right. We should.
He grabs the radio, but as soon as he depresses the talk button, there’s nothing but a static hiss.
“It’s dead.”
“Interference from something in the explosion?”
“Maybe.”
Neither one of us has moved since the explosion. It’s only been a minute, but it feels like an eternity. I keep scanning the scene. I know we're not the only ones who saw that. This day and age, every inch of the planet has at least ten cell phone cameras trained on it at all times. Someone is going to be phoning this in.
We should retreat.
But I’ve never been one for retreat.
“I’m going to take a look. You stay with the car in case the radio starts working.”
“What’s there to look at? If there was radiation in that missile…”